REVIEW OF DISABILITY STUDIES: AN INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL, Volume 15, Issue 4

Research Article
Preparing Preservice Teachers to Navigate Between Special 
Education and Disability Studies
Amy Petersen, Ed.D
University of Northern Iowa

Abstract: The field of Disability Studies in Education (DSE) has been critiqued as failing to 
bridge or make explicit how DSE theory is translated into educational practice. This 
qualitative autoethnography study uses examples from the classroom to explore how teacher 
preparation programs can prepare preservice teachers to translate DSE theory into practice 
within traditional Special Education settings.

Keywords: Disability Studies; Special Education; Teacher Preparation

      I arrive a few minutes before the start of the school day, and Jessica, who describes 
herself as an autism teacher, greets me. She greets me in the school office, and I can tell she is 
genuinely excited to see me, as I am to see her. She was a student in my undergraduate 
methods course many years ago, and I remember her as incredibly articulate and outspoken 
in her advocacy for students with significant disabilities. Today I am visiting her self-
contained classroom because she has agreed to participate in a research project exploring 
the current practices and beliefs of teachers who educate students with significant disabilities.

      She motions for me to follow and begins describing her students and classroom. Like a 
proud mother, she brags about her students' recent progress. One student has started using a 
communication device, and another student has recently started to read a few words. As we 
reach the door of her classroom, she pauses, looks at me, and in a confessional tone says, 
“it’s not perfect, it’s reality.”

      A maze of three-quarter high walls greets me upon entering her classroom. Jessica 
takes the lead, and we weave through the maze to a horseshoe table that is positioned in front 
of a whiteboard. She offers a verbal tour of her classroom, "[e]ach student has a workstation 
where they begin the day completing their work basket tasks. Depending on the schedule, 
students then rotate through a variety of stations." Pointing to a row of cubicles, she 
continues, "we follow Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) and Treatment and Education of 
Autism and related Communication and Handicapped Children (TEACCH)." As she continues 
to share, I am no longer listening. My thoughts have taken over, and I am growing anxious. 
What happened to Jessica? My reaction is visceral as if I've been punched in the gut. I feel 
betrayed. I did not teach Jessica to use ABA. The room is devoid of typical learning materials, 
replaced with three-quarter walls that resemble cubicles that you might find in an office 
building. Learning is referred to as work, and Jessica speaks in the behavioral jargon of "first 
you work, then you get a break." This teacher is not the same Jessica who sat in my method 
course advocating for inclusion and the rights of individuals with disabilities. To be continued 
below…

---PAGE 1---

Introduction

      Using qualitative autoethnography and the learning processes of boundary crossing 
(Akkerman & Bakker, 2011), this paper examines the intersection of Special Education and 
Disability Studies in Education (DSE) in teacher preparation. As a scholar and educator who 
aligns with a DSE perspective, I struggle with how my identity of DSE scholar and educator 
might be reconciled with my (reluctant) identity of a former special educator who works 
primarily in special education public school settings and prepares future special education 
teachers. Keeping in mind the vignette from above, I question if I have prepared students for 
the ‘realities’ of the classroom. As a professor in a special education teacher preparation 
program, I wonder, what might I do differently? How can I best prepare special educators to 
resist, negotiate, and successfully navigate special education systems from a DSE lens? Given 
this context, the following research questions have framed this paper. How do DSE scholars 
and educators bridge DSE theory with teaching and learning in the classroom? How do I (we) 
negotiate the boundaries between Special Education and DSE? How do I (we) prepare 
preservice teachers to negotiate and navigate the contradictory fields of Special Education and 
DSE? This question of how we, as DSE scholars and educators, make DSE theory relevant 
and useful to teachers working within the field of Special Education is timely and vital. As 
Cosier and Ashby (2016) so eloquently remind me, “whether teachers agree with the system 
in place or not, they still have to work within it” (p. 4). In turn, we must understand how to 
prepare teachers to work within it.

Special Education and Disability Studies in Education

      Special Education, as enacted in public schools across the United States, is premised 
on the medical model of disability. Underlying the medical model of disability are a number 
of empiricist assumptions that inform the practice and delivery of special education services 
and supports. Foremost, disability is perceived as an objective reality, and through proper 
testing, evaluation, and intervention, an individual labeled with a disability can be treated, 
remediated, or cured (Gallagher, 2004, 2005; Iano, 1990, 2004; Skrtic, 1995, 2004). Educators 
teaching from a medical model framework, thus, seek to set aside personal experience, beliefs, 
or background to ‘objectively; discover the ‘truth’ of teaching and learning. From this 
understanding, disability exists independent of the social and cultural context, instead of 
residing within the individual.

      When applied to students in classroom contexts, these assumptions are problematic. 
Under the premise that adherence to the medical model will result in learning and growth, 
teachers assume the role of a technician and follow a prescribed set of techniques (Iano, 
1990). This type of instruction fails to consider a student's cultural, social, or economic 
backgrounds and how they may intersect and impact on the classroom context. From a 
medical model framework, instruction is reduced to a set of skills to be mastered and often 
narrow in its curricular focus.

      An alternative understanding of disability is the notion of disability as socially 

---PAGE 2---

constructed (Berger & Luckman, 1966). In contrast to the medical model, a socially 
constructed understanding of disability acknowledges that differences among individuals 
exist; however, the meaning we ascribe to those differences are a matter of interpretation and 
dependent upon social, cultural, and economic contexts. That is, we, as educators, have the 
power to make differences matter more or less depending on the meaning we ascribe to 
difference. From this perspective, students labeled with disabilities are understood within their 
educational settings, and the onus for learning does not solely reside on the student's ability to 
change his or her perceived inherent deficit. Instead, educators and students collectively 
examine and explore the educational environment to consider what instructional routines, 
practices, or contexts that hinder a student's learning. Educators recognize and acknowledge 
how classroom climate and culture, coupled with students' backgrounds and experiences, may 
construct students as disabled, and they actively seek ways to construct those spaces and 
practices differently.

      Disability Studies in Education (DSE) is a field of study that explores the process of 
teaching and learning as socially constructed and thus, disability as socially constructed. From 
this framework, traditional Special Education structures, systems, and practices, such as the 
medical model and the subsequent practices that often prevail, are critiqued as inequitable, 
unjust, and disabling (Brantlinger, 2005). Continually evolving as a field, DSE has been 
challenged in that:

one of the criticisms of current disability studies approaches is that they tend to be too 
focused on theory and too unconcerned with practice. . . . in our efforts to advance 
social interpretations of disability, it is the case that we have ignored the genuine 
needs of practitioners for conversations between theory and practice and concrete 
examples of social interpretations in practice (Gabel, 2005, p. 16).

      To this end, scholars and educators have begun to explore and examine the pragmatics 
of teaching and learning from a DSE framework (e.g., Cosier & Ashby, 2016; Heroux, 2017; 
Lim, Thaver, & Poon, 2008; Young & Mintz, 2008). This exploration is timely as it relates to 
teacher preparation. Heroux (2017) explains:

pre-service teacher preparation program must analyze their current practices and 
evaluate their effectiveness for preparing high-quality, future special educators for 
increasingly diverse classrooms. While preparation informed by the medical model of 
disability is necessary for ensuring that pre-service teachers are knowledgeable about 
how special education services are delivered across the U.S., it does little in the way of 
preparing them for addressing how disability is defined and represented in society (p. 
10).

This paper contributes to this literature by describing concrete teaching examples that 
illuminate the tensions between special education and DSE and seeks to understand these 
‘realities’ in ways that inform how we might best prepare preservice educators to negotiate 
such ‘realities.’

---PAGE 3---

Methodology and Methods

      In my struggle with how to embed the social model and a DSE framework within the 
field of Special Education, I have come to understand the necessity of locating myself within 
and between the boundaries of Special Education and DSE. Making explicit how I attempt to 
work within and between these two often competing and contradictory systems is a useful 
reminder of the challenges teachers in the field encounter and the importance of bridging DSE 
theory with practice. By locating my own teaching stories within and between these 
boundaries, I use autoethnography to explore how we can prepare teachers to work within 
Special Education systems and from a DSE framework.

      Autoethnography is the critical examination of the self in relation to a broader social 
context (Ellis & Bochner, 2000). As described above, one of the challenges tothe field of DSE 
is how to bridge DSE theory with practice. By connecting this larger challenge with personal 
stories of navigating between two seemingly conflicting and contradictory fields, 
autoethnography serves as a useful tool. That is, I use my personal teaching stories to 
illuminate the challenges of bridging DSE theory as an avenue to develop a deeper 
understanding of how we can prepare preservice teachers to teach and learn within the field of 
Special Education. 

      To carry out this exploration, I use journals, field notes, and a methodological log to 
examine my personal experiences. Gallagher (1995) described a methodological log as a place 
to record field observations, explore ideas, and reflect on the data and research questions. My 
methodological log contained hundreds of pages of transcribed entries that included: 1) dated 
entries of documented conversations with colleagues, educators, and students, 2) sketches of 
ideas, 3) graphic organizers depicting possible theory, and 4) reflections.

      To analyze this data, I engaged in the process of journal writing and reading relevant 
literature and theory to interpret and understand these experiences. I reconstructed significant 
moments by writing short narrative vignettes. I looked across these narratives for specific 
themes, and in doing so, I found these experiences were complicated and messy. My 
experiences shifted between old and new understandings about disability, teaching and 
learning as I attempted to make sense of and integrate these understandings with my teaching 
‘realities.’ While my understanding of disability, as well as teaching and learning, grew in 
sophistication over time, these understandings were also mediated by the contexts I found 
myself navigating. Thus, reconstructing stories through writing vignettes served to both 
analyze the data and illustrate how I have negotiated the boundaries between Special 
Education and DSE, while also highlighting the complexities in such negotiations.

Findings and Discussion

      Below I use a layered approach to share my findings and discussion. First, I identify 
three teaching examples that represent critical moments in my thinking about DSE and 
Special Education. I reconstruct these experiences in the form of narrative vignettes. 
Following each vignette, I offer discussion by drawing from the theoretical framework of 

---PAGE 4---

boundary crossing to analyze the experiences. Akkerman and Bakker (2011) define a 
boundary as “a sociocultural difference leading to discontinuity in action or interaction” (p. 
133). My experiences within and across DSE and Special Education represent a boundary 
space where “new understandings, identity development, change of practices, and institutional 
development” (p. 142) emerge. To understand these experiences at the boundary of Special 
Education and DSE, I use three learning processes identified by Akkerman and Bakker 
(2011). These processes include identification, coordination, and reflection.

There is no Going Back

      In a graduate seminar class, I am introduced to the work of Terry Jo Smith (1997). I 
am assigned to read her manuscript titled ‘Storying the Moral Dimensions of Disordering: 
Teacher Inquiry into the Social Construction of Severe Emotional Disturbance.’ When I am 
assigned this reading, I am both a part-time graduate student and a special educator, 
teaching in a self-contained classroom for students who are labeled with behavioral 
disabilities.

      My classroom consists of six students who range in age from 11–13 years; five 
students are male; one student is female. They share the marginalized statuses of minority, 
low income, and disabled. My instruction consists of one-on-one lessons with each student 
using a direct instruction curriculum. Each lesson is scripted and requires both teacher and 
student to engage when cued with the appropriate response. The Boys Town Model, a 
prescriptive behavioral management system, provides a rigid classroom structure and culture 
wherein students learn ‘appropriate’ social skills and are rewarded or penalized within an 
elaborate point system.

      When I begin reading Smith’s (1997) manuscript, I am captivated, and I immediately 
feel a connection to her experiences. In a striking scene, Smith describes an encounter with a 
student at a bulletin board located in a hallway outside the classroom. The student, Gary, is 
destroying the bulletin board and Smith is called upon to stop him. In full grandiose fashion, 
she expresses a willingness to die in his honor and convinces Gary to step away from the 
bulletin board. She learns he feels humiliated because he is identified as a student with an 
emotional disturbance on the bulletin board—for all to see. Smith allows Gary to remove his 
name from the bulletin board, but her peers later criticize her for her ‘unconventional’ 
methods. That is, she used humor, treated Gary as a person, respectfully communicated, and 
demonstrated empathy. Like Gary, she, too, is labeled ‘crazy.’ For Smith, this incident leads 
her to question her purpose, the profession, and how she defined students. 

      I read this manuscript. I reread it. I am Terry Jo Smith. I realize that I, too, am 
‘crazy.’ My student's name is Jay. He is intelligent and curious, while also nervous, 
untrusting, and belligerent. On the day that I so vividly recall, Jay comes to school wearing a 
hat. As I greet him at the door to walk him to class (because I've been told that I can't possibly 
trust him to walk himself to class), he is wearing a hat. Hats are not allowed. I feel myself 
tense, anticipating the interaction to come. Without so much as a greeting, I order, "Jay, 
remove your hat." Refusal. He ignores me. Again, I instruct, "Jay, I need you to remove your 

---PAGE 5---

hat. I need you to look at me, say okay, and do it right away." Refusal. I watch his stance 
grow more rigid. My associates direct the other students to hush and begin to step out of the 
way, taking up sides. "Jay, I will deduct a point, if you do not follow my directive," I repeat 
my command. I deduct a point. Then another point. "Jay, you have lost three points, and you 
will now go to the time-out room." We face off like a gunfighter and gunslinger in a duel. He 
refuses to move, and I, regrettably, physically remove him with the assistance of an associate 
to a padded room. He stays there for the remainder of the morning because he refuses to take 
off his hat or follow my directions to look at me, do what I say, and check back with me. In the 
early afternoon, he draws me a picture and slips it under the door. Although the Boys Town 
Model dictates that this is not protocol and I should not accept it, I do because I am 
desperate. He has drawn a picture of himself wearing a hat. In a speak bubble stemming from 
his mouth, he has written, "bad haircut." 

      I never asked Jay why he wouldn't take off his hat. I didn't consider that as a sixth 
grader, he may have an excellent reason to wear his hat. I never allowed Jay the opportunity 
to speak freely; I failed to treat Jay humanly. I sucked. I hated teaching.

      The nagging feeling that exists in the shadows of my teaching is revealed and named 
in Smith's manuscript. I am comforted by her ‘craziness’ and her suggestion something is 
amiss in our educational system. Through her critique of special education, she helps me 
name the conditions of marginalization and oppression. In doing so, I begin to take 
responsibility for my role in constructing spaces where inequalities play out. I begin to ask: 
what am I to do? How do I act on this new knowledge? And, while I desire to return to a time 
that I might perceive as easier, more comfortable, there is no going back. Yet, I am also 
unsure of how to move forward.

Identification

      In the above vignette, I describe my first encounter with Disability Studies in 
Education—a beautifully written autoethnography by Terry Jo Smith (1997). In this paper, 
she describes her experiences teaching students labeled with behavioral disabilities and her 
realization that her students are not the ones who are “emotionally disturbed.” This article 
conveys an alternative perspective that creates the space to explore the multiple meanings of 
disability and special education. Smith’s story causes me to begin to question the tenets of 
special education, and in doing so, I begin to compare and contrast Special Education with the 
alternative lens of DSE. I begin to understand how significant the differences are between 
DSE and Special Education. 

      This teaching story marked the moment when my sense of identity as a Special 
Education teacher changed, and the boundaries between Special Education and DSE emerged. 
I wondered, how can I be both a special and disability studies educator? Akkerman and 
Bakker (2011) describe this experience as a process of identification. Identification entails an 
examination of the core values, beliefs, and identities of two intersecting boundaries or 
practices. In the process of identification, an individual defines one practice or boundary in 
light of another. That is, a practice or boundary is compared to another in an attempt to 

---PAGE 6---

understand how each practice may be similar or different. As individuals, like myself, begin 
to understand the differences between the practices or boundaries, they often seek to 
understand how each can coexist, leading to reconstructed practices or boundaries without 
necessarily overcoming the discontinuities. 

Drugs Deals

      My students and I climb the stairs to Mr. Sampson's sixth-grade general education 
classroom. We quietly sneak into the room and take our seats in the back row. On this day, 
like all other days, I've prepared ‘my students’ with verbal instructions, including 
expectations that border on thinly veiled threats. In the strongest teacher voice I can muster, I 
say, "I expect you will sit keeping your hands and feet to yourself. Do not disturb the person 
next to you, and I should see your eyes at the front of the classroom. Do not talk unless you've 
raised your hand and are called upon. And, remember,” I plead, "this is Mr. Sampson's room, 
and we must show him that we belong here by following his rules." Johnny rolls his eyes at 
me, and I invoke a small bribe, "This is your opportunity to earn 100 points. I know many of 
you need these points to earn the opportunity to go on the field trip later this week.” Ashamed 
with the speed at which I capitulate to bribery, I avoid any further eye contact.

      When math begins, I take my position, standing in the back corner of the room. I listen 
and watch as my co-teacher reviews the homework from the day before. I grow restless in the 
corner and decide to circle the room. Weaving in and out of desks, I glance over the shoulders 
of students to be certain everyone is following along. As I pass along the back row, I give 
Johnny a gentle nudge and a small smile that is intended to convey the message: "you're 
doing great, keep it up.” I have the lesson plan that Mr. Sampson shared with me just this 
morning. In the plan, I've noted the various accommodations that ‘my students’ require, such 
as scaffolding and breaking down concepts into steps. Because I didn't have an opportunity to 
plan with Mr. Sampson, I am a bit uncertain as to the overarching objective and how ‘my 
students’ might ‘keep up.’

      As Mr. Sampson begins to introduce the new concept, I am inclined to join him at the 
board so that I might break his verbal explanation into a list of steps written for all to see on 
the whiteboard, but I hold back. I've made a certain, if albeit uncomfortable, peace with our 
co-teaching arrangement. That is, my students and my very presence in Mr. Sampson's math 
class came about in what might be described as a ‘drug deal’ of sorts that entailed me 
‘selling’ what I could offer his classroom in an effort to secure a co-teaching arrangement. I 
shamelessly provided the security of an extra body in the classroom, additional support in the 
form of supervision and a willingness to take on shared grading responsibilities. In the act of 
hustling my way into his classroom, I convinced myself that once granted access, the terms 
and nature of our agreement could eventually be renegotiated. Months into the school year, I 
still wander the rows, serving more as a watchdog associate than a co-teacher. On this day, 
like every other day, I keep an eye on ‘my students’ and take note of where their learning 
breaks down so I can provide additional instruction once we return to the special education 
classroom.

---PAGE 7---

Coordination

      In the teaching story above, I attempted to acquiesce to the expectations of the general 
education classroom, while at the same time trying to quietly meet my students’ needs with 
the necessary special education supports and services. I struggled with the concessions I was 
making to integrate my students into the general education classroom, as well as what I was 
asking of my students. Essentially, I was expecting (and bribing) students to ‘hide’ certain 
parts of themselves or set aside particular needs to appear as though they belonged in the 
classroom. I began to equate these efforts as drug deals in that I was selling or offering up my 
soul (i.e., my values and beliefs) and asking my students to do the same in a desperate attempt 
at inclusion. I felt conflicted by my new understanding of teaching and learning from a DSE 
framework and my desire to provide an opportunity for my students and me to be part of the 
general education classroom no matter the cost. As I began to realize that making these 
concessions did not accomplish what I had hoped, I grew weary and burnt out. Although my 
students were in the general education setting, they experienced additional oppression by the 
denial of or suggestion that they should hide their differences and accept the denial of any 
necessary accommodations.

      Akkerman and Bakker (2011) describe the learning mechanism of coordination as the 
process of seeking procedures that allow for diverse perspectives, but without disrupting 
traditional practice. The concept of coordination helps me to make sense of this teaching 
story. In the process of coordination, communication and collaboration are established with 
the goal of maintaining the flow of work; however, there is not necessarily consensus between 
the two practices or boundaries (Akkerman & Bakker, 2011). Coordination includes four 
elements. First, there is a communicative connection that is established across the boundaries 
in the form of a shared boundary object. In this example, the shared general education lesson 
plan served as the boundary object because it provided a common structure within which the 
general education and myself were connected around a common purpose.

      Second, there are concerted efforts at translating that boundary object to bridge the 
boundary practices. In this case, the lesson plan was translated between general and special 
education knowledge and practice to meet the needs of all students in the classroom. To do 
this, I worked to find a balance between the general education expectations and the special 
education accommodations and services my students required to be successful in the general 
education setting. However, in the example above, I understood that I needed to be careful so 
that my students’ needs did not appear to be so significant as to justify pull-out instruction. 
Thus, I attempted to make the classroom run as smoothly as possible without drawing any 
attention to my students. These efforts represent the third element of coordination—that of 
routinization. Routinization is achieved when coordination becomes automatic, and the 
boundary is seemingly overcome. For me, routinization and merely overcoming the boundary 
was problematic. While it appeared that diverse practices were in place to sustain an inclusive 
classroom, there remained a majority practice, and without genuine consensus, the boundaries 
and dominant practice remain intact. My efforts at coordination silently maintained 
oppression under the guise that we can all live and work together (Akkerman & Bakker, 2011).

---PAGE 8---

Undercover Cop

      . . . [continued from above] I remain in Jessica’s classroom all day. I begin to feel like 
an outsider in her class. These are not the instructional strategist that I taught her. I taught 
her about cooperative learning, project-based instruction, and community-driven classrooms, 
but I witness students sitting in isolation for long periods, working on worksheets or receiving 
one-on-one instruction. Although she warned me that her class was ‘not perfect,’ I feel 
conflicted as I seek to understand what happened to Jessica. She is proud of her classroom 
and seeking my approval, but I am reluctant. How can I approve of practices so counter to 
what I believe to be good instruction? Do I merely go along with the instruction I am 
witnessing? Alternatively, do I say something?

       It is apparent that Jessica has worked diligently to structure a classroom that adheres 
to the principles of TEACCH and structured teaching. The students rotate to various stations, 
complete work tasks, and respond with automaticity. The class runs like a well-oiled machine, 
but I am distraught. I do not want to offend her, so I tell her that it is obvious how much she 
cares for her students and how hard she works on their behalf. This part is true. What I don’t 
tell her is that I am deeply disappointed. I don’t ask why she so quickly embraced a deficit 
understanding of her students and the accompanying medical model that characterizes 
traditional special education practice. I sense this would deeply trouble her, and as I look 
around, I imagine she might not have had much choice. I attempt to understand what led her 
to these instructional practices. She is a new special education teacher surrounded by veteran 
teachers and a school district that uses a particular curriculum and behavioral approach for 
students with autism. She is, I come to realize, just doing her job—the job the district asked 
her to do. However, I wonder if I have done my job in preparing her?

Reflection

      The opening and above vignettes provide an example of the process of reflection. 
Reflection refers to the potential of a boundary to facilitate and explicate differences between 
practices that lead to learning something new about one’s own and others’ practices 
(Akkerman & Bakker, 2011). As Jessica’s former professor, I found myself in a unique 
position as I entered her classroom. With the lens of both a researcher and teacher, I 
immediately identified a boundary between what I had taught Jessica and the practices that I 
witnessed. In conversation with Jessica, I was unable to indict her practices out of respect for 
her and her willingness to participate in the research, but I was also distraught and conflicted. 
How did Jessica come to teach from a medical model framework? My immediate inclination 
was that Jessica sold out; however, I also sensed that her story and experiences were more 
complicated than merely selling out. How did Jessica shift from a social model view of 
disability during her undergraduate coursework to medical or deficit understanding? How did 
she reconcile these two differing frameworks? To answer these questions required reflection 
and a willingness to call into question my instructional practices. I contemplated: What are 

---PAGE 9---

the realities that new teachers encounter? How do they make decisions? What concessions 
must they make? How do I, as a professor, better prepare my students for the ‘realities’ of the 
classrooms they will encounter?

      I also worried that I was offering approval to Jessica. It was evident that she was 
seeking my approval. Did my presence imply approval? Should I have asked her harder 
questions? This approach would have been disrespectful, I fear, and not productive. However, 
if I choose not to confront her, have I sold out? Was I condoning these cubicle workstations 
and the underlying ideology that understands students as objectives in need of training? I felt 
like an imposter, pretending to go along with practices I so profoundly abhorred. However, on 
reflection, I also began to understand the constraints, the complexities that lead me to better 
understand how the Jessica that I knew as an undergraduate was now a part of a larger system. 
I felt caught in the middle. When I considered Jessica's circumstances, I found myself making 
concessions that would be counter to my DSE identity. However, I was hesitant to be more 
direct with Jessica out of fear of sacrificing my ‘cover.’

      Reflection is the process of perspective making and taking. Whereas perspective 
making requires an individual to make explicit his or her understanding and knowledge of a 
particular issue, perspective taking requires one to attempt to understand through the lenses of 
another. In observing Jessica’s class and her instruction, I became keenly aware of my early 
experiences as a special education teacher. I recollected how challenging it was to teach from 
a DSE framework within structures premised on the medical model. Memories of Jay and co-
teaching came rushing back to me, and I began to understand how Jessica might find herself 
teaching special education, attempting to navigate the boundaries of Special Education and 
DSE and why she might have started our conversation with an apology of sorts, “It’s not 
perfect, it’s reality.” Jessica, like my former special education self, was attempting to do the 
best she could.

      Reflection that leads to learning something new about one’s own and others’ practices 
in ways that inform future practice is difficult. In contrast to identification or coordination, 
reflection leads to enhanced, altered, or improved understandings of the world and changes 
future practice (Akkerman & Bakker, 2011). As I use Akkerman and Bakker’s (2011) learning 
processes of identification, coordination, and reflection, it is reflection that illuminates my 
pivotal moments of identification, my efforts at coordination, and the continued challenges 
that special educators encounter teaching from a DSE lens. Through such reflection, I 
understand there remains much work to be done in preparing teachers to transform the 
boundary between Special Education and DSE.

Implications

      When I examine my teaching stories at the boundaries of DSE and Special Education 
through the learning mechanisms of identification, coordination, and reflection, several 
implications emerge for how we, as DSE scholars and educators, prepare preservice teachers. 
First, undergraduate teacher preparation coursework must include multiple opportunities to 

---PAGE 10---

examine the fields of Special Education and DSE critically (Heroux, 2017). A thorough 
examination of each field through a lens of equity, social justice, and diversity should be 
undertaken. First-person narrative accounts of disability, analysis of the history of Special 
Education and DSE, including the disability rights movement, and contextualizing disability 
within political and social spheres are vital components within teacher preparation programs 
(Connor, 2016). Teacher preparation programs should include spaces for preservice teachers 
to examine their values and beliefs, and how these beliefs align with various frameworks and 
understandings of disability. Conversations that center on how theory underlines and informs 
practice are vital.

      Drawing again from the first vignette, I can vividly remember feeling something amiss 
in my teaching, yet I did not have the means to identify that feeling or make sense of my 
growing dissatisfaction with teaching. It was not until my graduate work did I encounter the 
social model and DSE, and while not too late, I remember wondering why I had not been 
exposed to these ideas sooner. When I reflected on my experiences in Jessica’s classroom, I 
sensed from Jessica that she, too, was conflicted. Although I witnessed what I perceived as 
some questionable curricular decisions and instructional strategies rooted in a medical model, 
I also observed how she was well-intended, caring, and an advocate for her students. In her 
initial greeting to me, she commented that “it wasn’t perfect” and in doing so, she conveyed 
some recognition that she, too, was uncomfortable with the overall nature of her classroom. 
Without the opportunity to explicitly identify and explore the social model of disability and 
how various instructional practices align or are counter to the social model in her teacher 
preparation coursework, Jessica had not learned how to align her instructional practices or 
push back when given a curriculum that contradicted what she had learned in her teacher 
preparation program. Thus, teacher preparation programs must also prepare preservice 
teachers to be boundary workers.
      Boundary workers are individuals who encounter discontinuity in their actions and 
interactions when they find themselves at the intersection of two boundaries (Walker & 
Nocon, 2007). Boundary workers are located at the heart of discontinuities and can assist in 
opening windows into the work that occurs in boundary practice (Akkermann & Bakker, 
2011; Waitoller & Kozleski, 2013). Walker and Nocon (2007) suggest that successful 
boundary workers possess the ability to teach and learn “within a given context to (a) 
understand and negotiate the meanings, through the use of material and symbolic artifacts and 
(b) to understand and negotiate the meanings through engagement with others” (p. 180). The 
role of the boundary worker is to create connections between the practices of the overlapping 
communities (i.e., DSE and Special Education) and to facilitate the transactions between them 
by introducing new elements of one practice to another.

      In teaching our preservice teachers to be boundary workers, a useful strategy is the 
notion of ‘working the cracks’ (Collins, 2000). Collins (2000) describes the ability to ‘work 
the cracks’ as ‘resistance from the inside.’ That is, a person located within an oppressive 
structure capitalizes on small opportunities by virtue of his or her membership within the 
structure, to initiate change through pecking away at “cracks and fissures that represent 

---PAGE 11---

organizational weakness” (p. 282, italics original). Although Collins (2000) employs the 
concept to describe individuals within positions of authority in bureaucratic organizations, 
teacher educators can use the idea to teach preservice teachers how to use their membership in 
the field of Special Education to introduce and advocate for change that translates DSE theory 
into practice.

      As we prepare preservice teachers to ‘work the cracks,’ the learning mechanisms of 
identification, coordination, and reflection can be explicitly taught to preservice teachers as 
strategies they can use in both ‘working the cracks,’ as well as a means of understanding their 
work within and between DSE and Special Education. For example, preservice teachers who 
begin to understand disability through the social model will no doubt encounter the learning 
mechanism of coordination in their learning as they seek to make sense of how to teach from 
the social model. In anticipation of this quandary, teacher preparation programs can prepare 
students to recognize the benefits and challenges of the learning mechanism of coordination in 
their teaching. For instance, while coordination seeks to embed diverse practices, for example, 
Universal Design for Learning, within classroom settings, there is often an absence of genuine 
investment or widespread change on the part of the broader system or classroom. A parallel 
system is often established that, while representing a certain degree of progress, also presents 
barriers to more profound change. As preservice teachers participate in field experiences or 
student teaching experiences, opportunities exist to observe, discuss, and problem-solve 
around such issues related to coordination.

      Concerning reflection, preservice teachers can be taught how to reflect in ways that 
require them to practice the skills of perspective taking and making. As they work to expand 
their understanding of the classroom contexts and educators’ actions and motivation within 
those contexts, readings, activities, and discussions should center on examining the 
perspectives of stakeholders, including administrators, paraprofessionals, parents, and other 
educators. For example, Connor (2016) provides an example of how teachers might analyze a 
school’s culture to understand the various perspectives of educators and administrators, 
resources, priorities, and contextual factors to enrich their understanding of the dynamics 
impacting potential change and to strategically plan for short-term, immediate, and long-term 
action. 

      Finally, although I chose to present my teaching stories linearly to highlight each 
learning mechanism, I find that my teaching stories and experiences are not linear. Instead, the 
learning mechanisms described by Akkerman and Bakker (2011) work concurrently, often 
dependent upon my positionality, as well as the social, cultural, and environmental contexts 
that I continually navigate. Making explicit one's journey by sharing teaching stories and 
deconstructing these stories with and for preservice educators is essential. Understanding and 
recognizing how one moves in and out of, across and between these learning mechanisms is 
vital to change and transformation. If we, as DSE teacher educators, desire to translate DSE 
theory to practice, we must be willing to share our experiences in ways that give others 
opportunities and permission to share and reflect on their journeys.

---PAGE 12---

      Last, we must continually reevaluate and reflect on the structures within which we 
work, the practices we purport, and how these practices align with the ‘realities’ of schools 
and classrooms. We cannot teach from the ‘ivory tower,’ but instead must build networks and 
partnerships with schools and teachers to understand the contexts within which they teach and 
the challenges they encounter. We must model the notion of ‘working the cracks’ (Collins, 
2000) and while “most days do not involve dramatic, enormous victories” (Danforth, 2016, p. 
x), one must hold onto the notion that change occurs through small shifts that begin with 
hope—the hope of something better.

Conclusion

      The first qualitative study I remember reading was an ethnography by Elliot Liebow 
(1967) titled Tally’s Corner. In this ethnography, Liebow seeks to understand the experiences 
of young black men from urban settings by immersing himself in their daily lives. He 
witnesses illegal activities, overhears and is privy to rich and indicting conversations, and 
struggles with the moral and ethical quandaries that emerge, as he moves between 
membership within the street community and his role of researcher. I identify with Liebow in 
that my positionality as both a DSE scholar and a reluctant member of the field of special 
education often results in feeling like an undercover cop located within and between the 
boundaries of Special Education and DSE. How do I seemingly ‘go along’ when I abhor the 
very tenets of the field of Special Education? While I struggle with this question, the 
experiences that I have teaching and learning within the field of Special Education expand my 
understanding of the ‘realities’ that teachers encounter. I find myself living in an in-between 
space, and while it is messy and uncomfortable, I recognize such space as useful in helping 
me understand how to prepare preservice teachers to bridge DSE theory with traditional 
Special Education classroom practice.

Amy Petersen, Ed.D.,is a professor in the Department of Special Education at the University 
of Northern Iowa. Her research interests include qualitative research methodology and 
inclusive education.

References

Akkerman, S. F., & Bakker, A. (2011). Boundary crossing and boundary objects. Review of 
Educational Research, 81(2), 132–169. doi.org/10.3102/0034654311404435

Berger, P. T., & Luckman, T. (1966). The social construction of reality: A treatise in the 
sociology of knowledge. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books.

Brantlinger, E. (2005). 8 Slippery shibboleths: The shady side of truisms in special education. 
In S. L. Gabel (Ed.), Disability studies in education: Readings in theory and method 
(pp. 125–138). New York, NY: Peter Lang.

Collins, P. H. (2000). Black feminist thought. New York: Routledge.

---PAGE 13---

Connor, D. (2016). Analyzing school cultures and determining dynamics to enact co-teaching 
from a disability studies perspective. In M. Cosier & C. Ashby (Eds.), Enacting 
change from within: Disability studies meets teaching and teacher education (pp. 221–
242). New York, NY: Peter Lang Publishing.

Cosier, M. C., & Ashby, C. (2016). Enacting change from within: Disability studies meets 
teaching and teacher education. New York, NY: Peter Lang Publishing.

Danforth, S. (2016). How to have hope while waiting for the disability revolution. In M. C. 
Cosier & C. Ashby (Eds.), Enacting change from within: Disability studies meets 
teaching and teacher education (pp.ix–xi). New York, New York: Peter Lang 
Publishing.

Ellis, C., & Bochner, A. P. (2000). Autoethnography, personal reflection, reflexivity: 
Research as subject. In N. K. Denzin & Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.) Handbook of Qualitative 
Research (pp. 733–768). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.

Gabel, S. L. (2005). Disability studies in education: Readings in theory and method. New 
York: Peter Lang Publishers.

Gallagher, D. J. (1995). In search of the rightful role of method: Reflections on conducting a 
qualitative dissertation. In T. Tiller, A. Sparkes, S. Karhus, & F. Dowling Naess 
(Eds.), The qualitative challenge: Reflections on educational research (pp. 17–35). 
Norway: Casper Forlong.

Gallagher, D. J. (2004). Challenging orthodoxy in special education: Dissenting voices. 
Denver, CO: Love Publishing Company.

Gallagher, D. J. (2005). Searching for something outside of ourselves: The contradiction 
between technical rationality and the achievement of inclusive pedagogy. In S. L. 
Gabel (Ed.), Disability studies in education: Readings in theory and method (pp. 139–
154). New York, NY: Peter Lang.

Heroux, J. R. (2017). Best practices infusing disability studies within special education: A 
personal story. Review of Disability Studies: An International Journal, 13(1), 1–11.

Iano, R. P. (1990). Special education teachers” Technicians or educators?. Journal of 
Learning Disabilities, 23(8), 462–465. doi.org/10.1177/002221949002300802

Iano, R. P. (2004). The study and development of teaching: With implications for the 
advancement of special education. In D. Gallagher (Ed.), Challenging orthodoxy in 
special education: Dissenting voices (pp. 65–85). Denver, CO: Love Publishing.

Liebow, E. (1967). Tally’s corner: A study of negro streetcorner men. New York: Rowman & 
Littlefield Publishers, Inc.

Lim. L., Thaver, T., & Poon, K. (2008). Adapting disability studies within teacher education 
in Singapore. In S. L. Gabel & S. Danforth (Eds.), Disability & the politics of 
education (pp. 483–597). New York, NY: Peter Lang. 

Skrtic, T. (1995). Disability and democracy: Reconstructing (special education) for 
postmodernity. New York: Teachers College Press.

Skrtic, T. (2004). The special education paradox: Equity as the way to excellence. In D. 
Gallagher (Ed.) Challenging orthodoxy in special education: Dissenting voices. 
Denver, CO: Love Publishing Company.

---PAGE 14---

Smith, T. J. (1997). Storying the moral dimensions of disordering: Teacher inquiry into the 
social construction of severe emotional disturbance. Paper presented at the American 
Educational Research Association, Chicago, IL.

Waitoller, F. R., & Kozleski, E. B. (2013). Working in boundary practices: Identity 
development and learning. Teaching and Teacher Education, 31, 35–45.

Walker, D., & Nocon, H. (2007). Boundary-crossing competence: Theoretical consideration 
and educational design. Mind Culture and Activity, 178–195. 
doi.org/10.1080/10749030701316318

Young, K., & Mintz, E. (2008). A comparison: Difference, dependency, and stigmatization in 
special education and disability studies. In S. L. Gabel & S. Danforth (Eds.), Disability 
& the politics of education (pp. 499–511). New York, NY: Peter Lang. 

Preparing Preservice Teachers to Navigate Between Special Education and Disability Studies by Amy Petersen is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Based on a work at https://rdsjournal.org. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://www.rds.hawaii.edu.

---PAGE 15---